Imbued Bravery
by Fallen Angel Of The Forgotten
Summary: In which Komatsu is on the receiving end of a fight for food techniques, and gains himself an apprentice.


**Summary: ** In which Komatsu is on the receiving end of a fight for food techniques, and gains himself an apprentice.

Imbued Bravery

After nearly four years of working alongside Toriko as well as the other three Heavenly Kings, Komatsu found it was _really _difficult to be afraid of everyday people. He honestly couldn't remember at what point he'd stopped screaming at the sight of a monster, or calling for Toriko-san to come over and deal with it; his best estimated guess was probably around the same time Zebra-san finished his Full Course and demanded that Komatsu become his partner instead of Toriko-san's. Naturally, Toriko had risen up in full defense, intending to stop Zebra from taking his partner away.

Any other time, Komatsu would have stammered and screamed and begged for them to _stop, _but after watching the two butt heads time and again, he had merely sighed and gotten between them. The two, right in the middle of their argument, hadn't noticed him until suddenly he had a fist in each of their stomachs and they were bending over, trying to regain their lost breath.

Komatsu had gotten physically stronger, but not enough to knock over one of the Heavenly Kings. While it looked like he had socked them both firmly in the stomach, he had instead pressed on very vulnerable pressure points in a way that would send even the manliest men down to their knees. It was a series of pressure points that every human being – no matter how large or how strong – had, and Komatsu, during his Food Appreciation training, had learned about them in absolute secret.

Zebra had roared and Toriko had yelled, but both of them had gone absolutely silent when Komatsu had brought out his knife, and its Intimidation form – something that had never _ever_ seen - had reared its head. The Intimidation form had changed a bit since Komatsu himself had changed as the years had gone by; despite that however, it was still intimidating to both men. It didn't help that Komatsu had a similar look on his face – too similar for either man's comfort.

"If you two continue to fight," Komatsu had stated calmly, looking them both dead in the eyes as he did so, "then you can forget ever seeing me again. I'll take my stuff and leave, and neither of you have a partner. Is that what you want?"

The implications of Komatsu – who by that time had become a very well-known chef – leaving their five-man party had been enough to cool both men's heads. They had quieted down before continuing on their way to the next ingredient. When they had camped for the night, Toriko had apologized for his rudeness, and Zebra had huffed, but not in his usually holier-than-thou way. It had been softer, and Komatsu had understood it as Zebra's way of apologizing. He had accepted both without complaint, and the incident was eventually put aside.

Komatsu's newfound bravery had turned his relationships with the Four Kings into a type of brotherhood that bordered on something far sweeter. Komatsu didn't put a name to it simply because he was certain there was no name in the universe that could accurately and fully describe what the Four Kings meant to him – besides, he wasn't entirely sure he meant the same thing to them that they meant to him. So he continued to follow Toriko into battle, continued to gather ingredients, and continued to listen to the four bicker whenever they happened to cross paths.

And as he did so, he noticed the frightening intensity with which the younger chiefs began to watch him. The hotel had a new batch of recruits coming in, since a number of older chefs in Komatsu's kitchen were finally retiring this year. Komatsu hadn't really taken notice at first, simply because he had other things on his mind, but now that his schedule was beginning to clear up a bit, and he was spending more time in the hotel instead of out in the wilderness, he was beginning to see signs of things he had foolishly assumed he was past at this point.

Jealousy. Anger. Hatred. Even something bordering on obsessive desire. They were in the eyes of almost all the candidates that spent time in the kitchen with him, watching him prepare meals with experienced hands, slicing with a knife that had a mind of its own (sort of) and serving food that made people cry. Komatsu honestly wished he could say that some part of him hadn't expected it, but then he'd be lying. The only problem now lay with what to _do _about it. Going to the board of directors and asking them to fire an entire group of new recruits – which had been hard enough to find as they were – simply because they were jealous or upset over his skills was out of the question. It would be impossible to find any new recruits after this if he did so.

In the end, Komatsu knew that there were only four people who might know what to do. And even if they didn't know exactly what to do, they would at least give him some insight or tips. Hopefully.

* * *

"Ah, this is nice."

Coco, Sunny, Toriko, Zebra and Komatsu all sat around a table. Komatsu was currently serving them a dish he had spent the last two days preparing, and it was now at the ripest point it would ever be. Toriko was drooling and Zebra was growling like a dog that had smelled a juicy slab of meat and refused to share. The sight was touching – terrifying, but touching.

"I'm sorry to have called you all together like this. I mean – it wasn't my intention to bribe you with food or anything…" He was babbling, and hastily cut himself off. Zebra hated people who babbled; food wouldn't change that fact.

Fortunately, Coco was not nearly so emotionally retarded. "It's all right Komatsu-kun. It isn't your fault. But what exactly is it that makes you think we might know what to do about your situation?"

"Well, it's more of a feeling than anything." Komatsu started carefully as he finished serving the courses and took a seat between Sunny and Coco, who had both started in on their food. He always ate with them nowadays, simply because Toriko refused to touch his food otherwise, and Komatsu had slaved away far too much to let his meals go to waste. "Before, when I was younger and in a pinch, you guys always gave me some weird advice, and it worked out okay. I'm not expecting a lot of help, but maybe a push in the right direction would be enough."

"Ah," Coco said understandingly, taking a stab at his salad and raising it to his lips. "So it's more along the lines of 'push, not shove' that you want?"

Komatsu nodded, swallowing a bit of wine and grimacing when he noticed it was a bit too old. He'd talk to the wine dealers in the morning, he thought.

"Hmm, you say they're jealous?" Sunny suddenly spoke, wiping his mouth.

"I don't want to put a name to it, but yes, it feels like something along those lines. Anger, bordering on betrayal and jealousy, possibly insult." Komatsu nodded again, slicing what was left of his steak in half and serving a portion to Zebra and a portion to Toriko. "Like I said, no names though."

"It sounds like jealousy to me."

"Yes, but _why? _I mean, okay I'm traveling with the Four Kings, but that' s old news! I got my share of grief for that last fall, and the year before that, the one before that!"

"Maybe it's the ingrediants." Toriko finally said, patting his now-large belly in satisfaction. "Y'know, you come back with a lot of rare stuff and cook it. Maybe that's why they're upset."

"I don't think so." Komatsu shot it down after a moment of consideration. "It feels… I don't know how to explain it – _bigger _than that."

They sat quiet after that, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Coco's eyebrows suddenly went up.

"Exploration."

"Eh?"

"Uh?"

"Hm?"

"They're jealous of where you've been, Komatsu." Coco enlightened the group, explaining. "Think about it. You travel with us, the Four Kings, on a basis. We bring you practically every where we go, which, given our abilities, is anywhere in the world. We even bring you with us into the Gourmet world, an area none of these chefs will ever see. You can hold your own in a fight, you've met people like Melk and Old Granny Chiyo, survived trips into Ice Hell, Vegetable Sky and Death Falls. You've done things they can only dream of doing, and yet you're exactly like them."

Toriko blinked at the full explanation. "Wow. That's a _lot _to be jealous over. I mean, visiting one of the sites is plenty, but all of them? They've either got a lot of time on their hands, or they're just really bored."

Komatsu coughed delicately. "Um, when you think about it, Toriko-san, it's actually not that much. But it makes sense." He sighed. "Now how am I going to deal with it?"

"You could report them." Sunny said.

"Can't. We'd never find any good chefs afterwards, and I can't live forever."

"Good point."

"You could kill them." Zebra finally said. Komatsu shook his head. Zebra snorted.

"You could quit." Coco advised. Everyone's eyes immediately zoomed in on him. "Or not."

"Actually, that's not such a bad idea." Komatsu muttered to himself. The eyes switched their gazes. "I quit, the kitchen's open for them, they can say and do what they want, and I don't have to take them on headfirst."

Toriko stared at him the longest, gaze thoughtful. After a moment, he sighed and nodded. "If that's what you want, Komatsu, I'll support that decision."

The chef smiled at his partner. "Thank you, Toriko-san. And the rest of you as well. I know I'm not the first chef to have to deal with this, but—"

"You aren't capable of killing those who go against you." Coco smiled gently at him. "We understand, Komatsu-kun. You do what you feel is right, and leave the rest to us, okay?"

"Okay." He waved to his friends as they left, promising to come visit Toriko later that evening and share a cup of hot chocolate with him.

Then he turned, and went to gather his things.

* * *

Unfortunately, leaving wasn't as simply as Komatsu made it out to be.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" One of the new trainees demanded as he entered the kitchen the next morning, a bag in hand. The trainees were all there, he realized, and then shifted into a tigher stance. Something felt off. Too much like an ambush, instead of a simple Q and A.

"I'm leaving. You aren't comfortable with me here, so I'm respecting that and leaving."

"And you think leaving is going to make us feel any better?" Another trainee sneered, coming up near him. Komatsu switched his gaze to him and held his eyes, allowing all the years of handing a knife with its own form of intimidation to come forth. The trainee took a step back, gulping a bit. "Y-you think that if you leave, it's all just going to be okay?"

"If you're a chef of any sort, you should clean up your messes." The first snarled, coming forward with a knife in his hand and placing it directly under Komatsu's chin, blade pressing against his throat. Komatsu stilled, tipping his head slightly to peer at the weapon. "We're being judged because we're _your _apprentices."

"No, actually you aren't." Komatsu said in his reasonable voice, aware of the calm he was entering. It was the same state he got into whenever a large beast looking to pick a fight came close to him anymore. "I never signed on as your master. I intended to work here until I died, and then retire when I felt ready. I was never going to pass my techniques onto an apprentice." His eyes flicked up, and he saw the raw rage, and suddenly everything clicked. "That's why you're upset, isn't it? You want to learn my techniques, how I do what I do, but I'm not teaching you."

"We're here on orders." The first boy said, looking caught between pain and rage. "We have to learn what you're doing, and report back."

"I see." Komatsu's eyes lowered. "A rival company, then. Not apprenticeship."

"Surely you aren't surprised?" Someone else yelled. Komatsu was aware that the fifteen were closing, pressing closer. "This happens all the time. You just happened to be too stupid to notice."

Komatsu's eyes drifted shut then, his hand dipping down to pull the knife he held from its sheath. "I noticed," he murmured as a roar enveloped the room, "I just was hoping to be wrong."

Later, when the bodyguards were dragging out the corpses of the boys whose hearts had burst due to fright, Komatsu went out and sat beside the one boy who hadn't been completely overcome by his knife's intimidation form. "What was the name of the company who sent you here?"

"Marquise. Madame Marquise." The boy was covered in thick woolen blankets with a cup of hot tea pressed in his hands. He really was rather scrawny; all pale bones covered with black hair and dark eyes. He was a gentle soul, Komatsu knew, being forced to pick a fight when all he wanted to do was be a chef.

"That name's familiar." Komatsu murmured. He would talk to Toriko and Zebra, and see if they wouldn't mind doing a favor for him. "I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, come with me."

"Eh?" The boy looked up.

"You're going to be using the kitchen a lot, you have to know where everything goes."

The boy's eyes went comically wide, and Komatsu resisted the urge to chuckle. "B-b-but I tried to steal your techniques! I belong to someone else's company!"

"And now you don't." Komatsu said, in his logical voice again. "Tomorrow, Madame Marquise will find a note of resignation on her desk, stating you no longer wish to work there, and are instead taking on an apprentice ship under Komatsu at Hotel Gourmet."

The boy honestly looked as though he might cry. Komatsu couldn't exactly blame him. "But _why?"_

The chef turned his back and walked away. "Because you were the only one who didn't die when I turned my knife on you."

It was, Komatsu knew, a good sign for the boy's future.


End file.
